


Nine O'Clock

by twistedrunes



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 17:44:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: Tommy has stood you up again. You're not angry, rather disappointed and resigned that this is how it will always be. You ignore his phone calls, deciding you don't want to deal with him. That becomes a lot harder when he turns up, bleeding on your doorstep.Prompts:1: “You’re in danger.”2: “Don’t lie to me.”





	Nine O'Clock

You look at your watch, nine o’clock. You catch the eye of the nearest waiter.

“Would you like to use the phone, ma’am?” He asks kindly.

You thank the Lord for the small mercy that Tommy never stood you up at the same restaurant twice. So the staff weren’t aware of quite how pathetic you were. You smile at his attempt to save your feelings. “No.” You say with a little shake of your head “Just the cheque.”

You can feel all eyes on you as you as the waiter returns with the small black folder containing the check. You’re grateful it’s not a busy night, the restaurant only about half full. You don’t even bother to look at the bill, putting twenty pounds inside it, well aware you were massively overpaying for three gins. You hand the folder back to the waiter “Will you call me a cab?” You ask pleasantly.

The waiter nods and leaves. You take a deep breath before standing, holding your head high as you walk back through the restaurant. A few women catch your eye with a sympathetic smile. It’s somewhat gratifying that a few men give a little shake of their heads as if dumbfounded that you would be left waiting.

At the door the maître d helps you on with your coat, commenting on its beauty. You nod thinking you may well burn it when you get home. “Would you like to leave a message for the other party ma’am? For when they arrive.” He says, his eyes kind.

“No. Thank you. If he arrives simply tell him I have left. Thank you again. I’m sorry for tying up your table.” You reply. 

“Not a problem ma’am. On a slow evening like this, it’s good for business to have a pretty woman at one of our tables.” He says nothing other than kindness behind his flattery.

“Your cab is here ma’am.” The porter says opening the door for you and taking your elbow to help you down the stairs. At the car, he opens the door for you.

As you step into the cab the maître d calls out to you. “Ma’am! Wait! There is a gentleman on the phone for you.” He says with an encouraging smile.

“Tell him you missed me.” 

“He says it’s vital that he speaks to you.” He insists.

“He would,” you say shaking your head and placing a note into the hand of the porter. He closes the door and you give your address to the cab driver.

\----------------------------------

The phone is ringing as you open the door, you ignore it kicking off your shoes. Only one person had your phone number and you had no desire to talk to him. It stops ringing for a moment before it starts again. Again you ignore it, tugging off your earrings and dropping them on the dresser you quickly undress and remove any sign you had plans for the evening. As you’re washing your face the phone rings again. Again you ignore it.

The phone rings twice more while you slice and toast some of yesterday’s bread, lavishing butter on it. You eat at the stove as you warm some milk for cocoa. The phone rings again. You wait for it to stop before you take it off the hook. You add a dash of whiskey to your cocoa and settle yourself in front of the fire with a book.

Banging on the front door draws you from your story. Sighing you briefly consider ignoring it. But you know it won’t stop and you don’t want any of your neighbours complaining to the landlord. You are slightly taken aback at a decidedly un-composed Tommy standing on the other side of the door.

He doesn’t even wait for the door to be fully open before he barges in wrapping his arms around you “Thank fuck.” He breathes, before pushing you away again his face and voice becoming hard “ **You’re in danger** , why the fuck didn’t you answer the phone?” He demands.

You see red “ **Don’t you fucking lie to me**. Don’t you try and scare me because you’ve stood me up again.” You say slapping his face.

Tommy steps back, his expression pained. He leans heavily on the door. Over his shoulder, you notice John and Arthur both looking tense and more importantly have guns drawn.

Arthur steps forward “You’re in fucking danger so go get dressed.” He commands,

“No.” You shoot back reflexively. You and Arthur had never got along.

Arthur’s jaw flexes as he moves closer to Tommy. A hand placed possessively on his chest. John moves closer too, but watching you. “You need to get changed. Tommy needs the hospital he’s been shot. But he wouldn’t go until he knew you were safe. He won’t leave you here. So go get dressed so we can all take him ‘ey?” He says his voice amazingly calm considering the words he was saying.

You look at him dumbly. “Shot?” 

“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” Tommy answers. “Just go get dressed ‘ey? I’ll feel better if I know you’re safe okay.”

You nod unable to find words.

“Good love,” John says, I’ll stay here with you and Arthur will take Tommy back to the car while you get dressed and then we’ll go. Alright?” He says looking at Tommy who just nods.

\----------------------------------------

You sit in the waiting room with John and Arthur.  While you had wait men come and go. Each arrival followed with furtive whispering in the corner. Eventually, they stop coming, John tells you the danger is over. You nod in reply.

It seems like hours later when the doctor calls John and Arthur in. You’ve not said a word since you’ve left your flat. John takes your elbow bringing you with them. “Can’t leave you alone now can we?” He says with a smile.

You stand by the door while Tommy talks to his brothers. Arthur and John turn to leave, you go to follow them.

“Stay,” Tommy says in a tone of voice which can only be meant for you, a command rather than a request. You don’t leave but don’t move away from the door either. “Come ‘ere,” Tommy says gently. You cross the room and stand next to the bed not meeting his eye, chewing your lip to stop the tears you can feel burning your eyes. You can’t take your eye from the bandages on his right shoulder. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Tommy says gently, taking your hand tugging you closer. He shuffles over, making more room for you on the left side of the bed. “Up you get,” he says patting the empty space.

You stand next to the bed, still fighting to hold back the tears, your fingers scrunching the sheet and blanket. “I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologise.” Tommy cuts you off. His fingers lift your chin, before stroking your cheek “I took you for granted. Did you really think I was lying about being in danger?”

“I did think you were lying. You do take me for granted. I wasn’t apologising for tonight. It’s over Tommy. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“I got shot. That’s why I didn’t make it.” Tommy says indignantly.

“Tonight. That’s what happened, tonight. But not all the other nights. I’m done.” You turn walking to the door, you stop briefly before closing the door “Goodbye, Tommy.”


End file.
